


Crash Into You

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [340]
Category: thunderbirds are go
Genre: M/M, Post 2x01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-27 12:11:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8401201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: anon asked for: a Virgil/Brains prompt based around 2x1 please? After what happens with TB2.  Needless to say, spoilers for the s2 premiere for TAG





	1. Chapter 1

The second Gordon called that he and Virgil were clear of the damaged ship, Brains allowed himself to shudder and collapse with his head in his hands, sucking in deep lungfuls of air after holding his breath pretty much since the Mechanic attacked.

It had been too close, the remote sensors for TB2 a wall of red as system after system went critical.  He if believed in miracles, he would have called it a miracle that Two made it to Tracy Island at all.

Brains had an iron discipline born of long practice; he permitted himself two minutes by the clock to go to pieces, then he gathered up the fragments and headed for the service elevator topside, MAX close on his heels.

Up close, the damage was even worse.  TB2 was covered in foam, and it would have been comical if not for the sparking wires and the scorch marks up the big bird’s flanks.

The automatic systems he’d designed but hoped never to use whirred to life, and Brains and MAX walked like a procession as they escorted the injured Thunderbird back into the hangar.

Rinsed of the flame retardant, Brains took stock.  The damaged VTOLs would have to be stripped out completely, and the crushed robot, rear right, looked as if it had cracked the housing.

Brains had the kind of mind that moved too fast to stop – cracked housing to fuel leak, fuel leak to hull strength destabilization, to ignition, to explosion, to…nothing left but ashes.

The tablet he was clutching was shaking; Brains clenched it hard enough that his fingers ached, and forced himself to breathe through his nose until the worst of the tremors subsided.

Muscles aching, eyes burning from more than just the stench of smoke and foam, Brains reached for his tools.  Work the problem in front of you, he was always told.  One problem at a time.

Step one, then: Remove the robot that nearly downed his Thunderbird.

 * * *

The Mechanic’s bot was in the middle of his workshop in a hastily built containment cell, a combination Faraday cage and actual, physical jail.  Brains wasn’t taking any chances with it.

Scans had revealed very little – off the shelf components put together with such ingenuity and skill as to become more of their parts, driven by software slaved to a hive mind.  Without that connection, there was very little to discover in the code, though Eos had taken Brains’ preliminary verdict as personal challenge.

They were all still smarting a little from the encounter with the Mechanic.

Behind him, the fabrication units were a constant hum of noises, spitting out components for the rebuild of Two. He should be starting the strip-down process, but he found himself staring into the cage, unwilling to blink first.

“It is dead, right?”

Brains startled, hard enough that the tray of tools by his elbow clattered loudly across the floor.

“Woah.”  Virgil went to bend to pick them up and froze, wincing.

“I’ve g-got it,” Brains muttered, kneeling to scoop them up quickly as Virgil straightened slowly, breathing shallowly.  By the time Brains had shoved the tool tray away, the crease between Virgil’s eyes eased slightly, though he still hand a hand pressed protectively to his side.  “Sit,” Brains commanded, pointing at his own chair.  “You should be in b-bed resting, not down here.”

Virgil sank unsteadily onto the seat, but he managed a pained smile.  “I had to check on the other patient.  What’s the prognosis, doc?”  His gaze slipped from Brains’ face to the Thunderbird on the platform behind him, already surrounded with equipment.

Brains shouldn’t have been surprised; if anything, it was a miracle that it had taken Virgil this long to come down.  “VTOL’s are f-fried, b-but you knew that.  The fire caused d-damage to the rear electronics racks, and I want to overhaul the v-vertical flight and all the electrics while we’re at it.”  He ran through the priority list  of repairs quickly, briskly, dispassionately.  He folded his arms to keep them steady.

Virgil looked back at Brains.  “Meaning?” he asked.

Brains had to look away, turning on the spot to look up at his patient.  “The Mechanic did a lot of d-damage,” he admitted softly.  “The Mechanic,” he added with a short, sour laugh.  “The Wrecker, more like it.”

Virgil’s hand was huge on his shoulder, but steady.  Brains looked down, cataloging again the nicks and burns along the fingertips, where the protection of the gloves ended.  He should work on materials, find something thin enough for their work, but tough enough to give them protection.  “Brains?”  His name snapped him out of his reverie.

Brains shook his head, clearing his thoughts.  “T-Two weeks minimum, just to g-get to shakedown.  A week of flight t-tests.  No argument.  B-besides,” he added as Virgil opened his mouth.  “You’ll need that long for your ribs to heal.”

Virgil smiled, throwing the bruise on his jaw into sharp relief, though at least now, with the soot and ash washed away, he didn’t look so pale.  “Sir, yes sir,”  he drawled, and Brains just had to step closer.  “Hey, what about your workshop rule?”

“Virgil,” Brain said emphatically.  “S-s-stuff my workshop rule.”  Virgil chuckled, standing still as Brains moved slowly, carefully, the scans still fresh enough in his mind that he could work his arms around Virgil without pressing on the worst of the bruises.  Only when he was settled, his cheek against the soft flannel-covered shoulder, did Virgil wrap him in a gentle hug.

“You okay, Brains?” Virgil asked, and Brain let himself feel the rumble of the words through his cheek.

“T-two minutes,” Brains replied.  “You could have died today, and we would have had to have watched.  I couldn’t _d-d-do_ anything.  I just…just need two minutes right now.”

He felt the light kiss on his forehead, the gentle, warm huff of breath.  “Take five, Brains.  Hell, take as long as you need.”

“That’s forever,” Brains replied without thinking.  

He winced; too soon, too much, and his mind wanted to grab the words out of the air, but Virgil just chuckled and held him tight.  “Let’s start with five and go from there.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon returned, and requested "Brains/Virgil and the bedroom in T2 "

Virgil folded his arms,  "Consider this my unsurprised face.”  But he was smiling as he stepped closer to look over the plans and schematics that outlined the improvements to Two that Brains had made while he had the big bird grounded.

He’s moving easier, Brains notes, the reality of the body next to him lining up with the details from the scans and daily checkups, the careful counting of the bruises as they faded one by one.  Soon, Virgil would be cleared for flight.

When they started whatever it was between them, it had been made clear from both sides that the rescues came first – they were Thunderbird and Engineer first, Virgil and Brains second.  The rules had been laid out, the places where the relationship lived and where it could not go.

Brains has been fighting the urge to break every damn one of the rules for a fortnight.  He knows it’s going to get worse before it gets better, and he knows that the first time he hears the VTOLs roar again, he’s going to be worrying himself sick until Virgil was safely back on the island

This Mechanic–apparently someone he knows, or at least who knows _him_ –has painted an extra layer of stress on everything they do.

Virgil makes a noise of interest, flipping the hologram around to examine the changes.  “Smaller rack?”

Brains pushes his glasses back up his nose.  “Advancements happen.  D-diode arrays now only need half the s-space.  It was a upgrade I had p-planned for a while.”

Virgil’s face cracks into a smile as he twists the hologram.  “So that explains where this extra space came from?”

Brains grins back.  “You d-did always complain you h-hit your h-head or your f-f-feet were always cold.”

Brains has been fighting the urge to break the rules for days.  He’s unprepared for when Virgil does, grabbing his hand and towing Brains up the gangway.

There’s something peaceful about a ship shut down, quiet and dimly lit now that Brains has removed his worklights.  Virgil keeps one hand around Brains’ wrist, a complete circle of his fingers, and his other hand reaches to brush the walls of Two as he strides easily down the narrow passages of the lower flight decks.

Bedroom is too grand an honorific, really; it’s a flight bunk, narrow and low, mostly a thin mattress on a raised platform with storage lockers underneath and overhead making the space almost claustrophobic.  Brains hasn’t even stripped the plastic storage wrapper off the new mattress yet.

Virgil finally lets go, his fingers tracing over the back of Brains’ hand in a way that always makes him shiver.  Brains leans against the bulkhead as Virgil hauls himself up, swinging his legs around.  “Ahh,” he sighs, tipping his head back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.  “No more folding myself up like origami to fit.  This is so much better, Brains.”

Even to his own ears, the sound of him clearing his throat sounds nervous and abashed. “G-glad you approve,” he mumbled.

The entire space is tiny, and less than a foot of air between them.  So when Virgil reaches and _grabs_ , his hand pulling flat against the small of Brains’ back, Brains has nowhere to go but _forward_.  His knees bash into the storage locker fitted under the bunk, and momentum carries him forward until he faceplants into Virgil’s chest.

“Virgil!” Brains cries out, trying to get his weight up off Virgil without causing fresh injury.

Virgil just wraps his other arm around and hauls Brains the rest of the way, until he’s awkwardly on both the bunk and Virgil.  “So I thought.  Ww both fit,” he says smugly.

Brains stops struggling, trying to hold onto his dignity in his sprawl.  “Are you d-done?”

“Nope,” Virgil says sunnily.  He rolls, and the movement decants Brains neatly onto the mattress, wedged between Virgil and the wall.  

His glasses are askew, but this close, he can see Virgil clearly over the top of his frames.  “We’re in my w-w-workshop,”  he reminds them both, trying to sound stern and implacable.

It didn’t work.  “Nope,” Virgil replies, plucking Brains glasses off his face, folding them up before neatly tucking them in Brains’ breast pocket.  “We’re in my Thunderbird.  This is my domain, your rules don’t apply here.”

“Technicalities.”

Virgil just _beamed_  at him.  “Rules are rules.  And I say, on my Bird, snuggles are mandatory.”

It _was_  comfortable, framed inside Virgil’s arms.  “Well,” Brains acquiesces.  ‘If those are the rules..?” 

Virgil’s laugh runs the length of where they are pressed together on the single mattress.  

There was still the Mechanic, and flight tests, and whatever disaster was waiting for them tomorrow.  But that was outside this Bird.  In here, there was just the two of them, and this moment.   Brains pressed in tight and let his eyes drift closed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> my favourite anon came back with a request to write something super fluffy

 

Brains has a habit of working til he drops.

It was a habit Virgil already knew about, long before this thing between them ever started.  But now that he knows that _this_ is mutual, he’s starting to feel somewhat responsible for the worst excesses of Brains’ habits.

It’s o-dark-thirty on the island, and all good little Thunderbirds are tucked up in their beds.  Virgil navigated the stairs in the dark, descending down from his bedroom to the main level by touch and memory.  His skin prickled slightly in the cooler air; his bed had been toasty warm, a little nest in the night.

But Brains’ rooms were across the hall, and Virgil had awoke with a start to realize the door was open, the quarters beyond quiet and empty.

“Just ten more minutes, huh?” Virgil muttered to himself.  “Yeah, right.”

The lights in the elevator down to the workshop levels were too bright, and Virgil winced, shielding his face as distance gears hummed and dropped him into the mountain.  Down at the workshop, the shadows were deep around the little pool of light splashing out around Brains’ main workbench.

Virgil slowed from his righteous stride to a complete stop right on the edge of the ring of light.

Brains wasn’t so much slumped as _sprawled_  across his workbench, a tool still perilously dangling from lax fingers.  His eyes were closed behind glasses tilted askew, his mouth open.  He was snoring slightly, a gentle rasp of breathing.  By his side, MAX was crouched, limbs tucked in, his boxy head lowered.  Brains’ other hand lay lightly on the round carapace of his bot’s body.

Virgil had to bite his fist to stop himself from making a sound.  He wanted to _coo_.

Instead, he took a step into the light.  MAX’s eye shutter clicked open, his head lifting a whir of servos.  “It’s bedtime, MAX,” Virgil whispered.

MAX’s limbs unfolded in a ballet of parts, dislodging Brain’s hand.  There was a twitch of movement, a flutter of eyelashes as Brains made an unhappy noise.

Virgil gently tapped Brains’ shoulder. “Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” he murmured.  “Time for all good mad scientists to be in bed.”

Brains made another unhappy noise as he sat up, eyes barely open, swaying on his stool.  Virgil was surprised he hadn’t already slid off.  “Hey, careful.”

Brains responded by trying to sit up straighter.  He held it for a moment before his posture melted and he swayed over and landed against Virgil’s chest.  “Mmm, okay,” Brains slurred, eyes already fluttering closed again.

Virgil swallowed his laughter.  “Ok.  Not what I had in mind, but okay.”  He rested a steadying hand on Brains’ shoulder as he looked around for a solution.  “You can’t stay down here.”  He looked down and breathed out heavily as Brains rubbed his cheek against Virgil’s t-shirt.  “You know,” he said to the room.  “If you just went to bed when you said you would, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”  

He was finding it hard to be annoyed, though.  Brains was pretty much leaning his whole weight into Virgil, and while he wasn’t the smallest guy in the building, he was slightly built, and Virgil had nearly a foot of height on him too.

Virgil hummed thoughtfully to himself, glancing from Brains to the distant elevator.  MAX, watching, tilted his head.  “Think it might work?” Virgil asked the robot.

In response, MAX backed up in a hum of motors, giving him space to work.  “Brains,” Virgil whispered, shaking him gently.  “Come on, we’re going back upstairs.”

Alan could be sleep-walked; he was easy to get moving regardless of his state of consciousness.  Gordon staggered, but could be steered.  Brains seemed content to lean on Virgil and drool slightly, no matter what Virgil tried.

His feet were feeling chilled on the bare concrete floor.  Virgil sighed heavily.  “Plan B.”

It took a bit of maneuvering, and even holding onto the edge of Brains’ workbench, Virgil nearly face-planted at least once, but by the end, he’d managed to get Brains mostly up and onto his back.  He stood slowly, aware of MAX as he span around the pair of them, beeping softly in concern.  “I’ve got him, MAX, it’s okay,” Virgil said as he shuffled and jiggled his passenger into an easier piggy-back hold.  He could feel Brains draped languidly across his back, and tightened his grip. “Right, up we go.”

Brains head lolled on Virgil’s shoulder the entire way back up to the main level.  Virgil stepped off the elevator carefully into the dark house, moving slowly as he made the final stages back to their shared hallway.

Brains quarters were neat, but Virgil still flicked on the lights.  It made no difference to Brains, who was sighing softly on each exhale, his breath tickling the short hairs on Virgil’s neck.  “We are so talking about this in the morning,” Virgil murmured to himself as he attempted to decant Brains into his unmade bed.

It mostly worked, Brains legs slithering onto the mattress.  Virgil winced, trying to be as gentle has could as he unraveled Brains’ fingers from where they were clutching a fistful of Virgil’s shirt.

Virgil finally freed himself.  He flicked the sheet over Brains’ shoulders and paused, watching him breathe.  “Night, Brains,” he whispered finally, letting his fingers rest lightly on the back of Brains’ hand.

“Mmm,” Brains sighed, twisting into his pillow.  “Good night, Virgil.”

Grinning softly, Virgil turned off the light and quietly closed the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon request: Brains witnessing TB2 falling through the air during "Skyhook" and something vaguely prequelly appeared

It started with a crack of lightning that turns the main comms to static and Brains’ heart to ice. He’d spotted the danger too late to do anything more than shout a warning, then there was nothing to do but call out the facts on all frequencies, unsure if Virgil could hear him.

Only when Gordon’s risky, chaotic maneuver worked did Brains trip backwards onto one of the seats that ringed the main display.  Grandma Tracy was there, a steadying hand on his shoulder.

Brains let himself draw on the comfort offered, for just a moment, before standing up again to return to his work.  Scott was ordering Virgil back to base, making new plans.  Brains eyes danced over the schematics, the altimeter like a ticking clock for Sirrus and all her crew.

Behind him, Grandma sighed.  “You two just need to sit down and _talk_ ,” she muttered, voice gravelly and tiredly amused.

Brains pretended not to hear her.

 * * *

Tracy’s were driven, goal-focused and creative.  People forgot that at their peril.

“Brains?” Virgil’s voice preceded him into the workshop.  He’d showered, his hair still damp at the edges, and he’d changed into his other uniform of jeans and a plaid shirt.  “Grandma said you wanted to talk to me?”

Brains sat back from his workbench, his face still covered by the magnifier mask, and quietly repeated in his head several Tamil words that his forebears would be scandalized by.

Grandma Tracy was definitely driven, goal-focused and creative, with an extra helping of _devious_.

“Brains?”

He shook his head, turning to smile a professional greeting.  He’d always had kind of a crush on Virgil, gentle and kind and strong and all the things Brains admired in others.  It had mostly faded to a warm feeling, but occasionally, such as when someone had just been electrocuted by the equivalent of a whole lightning storm at once, the old emotions roared back to life.

He was sure his feelings were writ large on his face.  “V-Virgil,” he greeting, wincing slightly at his own voice, too loud in the quiet room.  “I, uh,” he scrambled for legitimacy.  “I w-wanted to d-d-debrief you on the, the…”

Virgil’s nose wrinkled, though he smiled with easy humour.  “The bugzapping?” he offered as the silence stretched.

Brains winced.  “Yes,” he admitted bluntly.

“Oh.”  One syllable, flatly spoken, derailed Brains’ entire train of thought.  Whatever was showing on his face now had Virgil tilting his head like he was considering options.  He stepped forward, and Brains had to grip onto the side of his workbench to force himself to hold his ground.  “Because Grandma kinda implied something else.”  He was close enough now that Brains could easily see the wicked twinkle in Virgil’s eyes as he smiled.  “Something about swooning like a romantic hero when you heard the dashing knight-” and here, Virgil laid his hand ironically across his chest. “-was in a dire predicament?”

Brains reeled, but one image struck him hardest.  “I did not _swoon,_ ” he protested.

Virgil was grinning now, playful as a cat.  “Okay then.  Were overcome?  Collapsed?  Were in awe of my totally epic abilities?“

“Gordon saved you,” Brains pointed out, turning back to his workbench so that Virgil couldn’t see how hot his cheeks had become.

“Ouch, low blow,” Virgil murmured, moving slowly until he was standing by Brains’ side.  There was a long pause, and Brains could feel Virgil staring at him. “No swooning, huh?”  

Brains opened his mouth to deny everything, well-versed after years of practice denying it to even himself.

Virgil kept going.  "Pity.  Would’ve made a nice change from me swooning over you all the time.“

He was turning to leave before Brain caught up with the conversation. "W-w-wait, what?”  He reached over, grabbing Virgil’s arm.  His heart was beating in his chest hard enough to hurt, but he had to know now.  "Really?“

Virgil was radiant yet hesitant as he nodded.   "Yeah, Brains.”  He winced, then steadied himself.  "I, uh, I made lunch.  For just the two of us.  If you’re…“

"Yes,” Brains said firmly.  "Yes.“


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from a prompt in the comments from SinEater who requested: Any chance of seeing the flip side of this? Not Virgil but Grandma and her have enough of them circling around each other?

Grandma loved all the young people in her life with a fierce intensity, but sometimes she wanted to just reach over and slap some of them upside the head.  They’ve all got their strengths and faults, their unique ways of moving through the world, but she has the benefit of experience.

Right now, the urge to collar Virgil and Brains and share some of that had-won knowledge is getting almost too strong to resist.

Virgil always reminded her of water; he flowed through life, a constant current that could move any obstacle but usually chose instead to go around.  Brains, on the other hand, reminded her of a tree – steady and still, the fruits of his labour sheltered all who came near.

Neither were the type to chase.

But that’s what she thinks they need more right now.  She’s mostly been an observer to their little psychodrama, and her vantage point has given her a startlingly clear view.  There’s been a growing number of glances, small smiles, and changing patterns as feelings have developed, independently, but already in sync.  She wonders, sometimes, if she’s the only one who can see it.

Trees and water are as damn near a perfect match as she thinks possible, in their lives.

Beyond that, she loved them both, and she can see that they would be _good_  for each other.  She’s been Grandma for a long time, lonely almost as long, and she remembers still the comfort of having someone around who just _fits_  against all your rough edges.

She doesn’t want to meddle, and neither are the kind to appreciate a matchmaker.  But unless something changed, and soon, they would miss each other completely, and she’d lost enough in her life not to trust in second chances.

She’s alone with Brains now, watching the CIRRUS station climb higher as Gordon guides Two back to base and Scott brings One in closer.  Her heart is still pounding from the close call.

She sighed, eyes closed.   “You two just need to sit down and talk,” she muttered, more to herself than anything.

Brains twitched, but didn’t respond.

She sighed again and turned away.  She didn’t want to be a meddler, but she was their grandmother, and she wanted them to be happy.  That would have to come first.

Leaving Brains to coordinate the rescue, she started to make her plans.


End file.
